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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27222352">The Cliff's Edge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicPlotter/pseuds/MusicPlotter'>MusicPlotter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Not today endgame, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sad Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:28:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,291</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27222352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicPlotter/pseuds/MusicPlotter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter was having a good day, and then he wasn't. He doesn't know how to explain it, but luckily, he doesn't have to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Cliff's Edge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Uhh so warnings: I'm hesitant to say it gets heavy but there's a lot of emotions??</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It just didn’t make sense.</p>
<p>He’d been fine earlier – hell, he’d even taken a moment to appreciate how genuinely happy he was. It wasn’t that he was always upset, anyone who knew him wouldn’t hesitate in calling him cheerful, but there was a difference between being not sad and happy.</p>
<p>It was a difference he thought about all too often.</p>
<p>But the point was, hours ago he’d been smiling at whatever Ned was saying, feeling like his life was finally going well, and now he was staring up at the ceiling, feeling, well, not happy.</p>
<p>He didn’t understand how his whole mood could have changed in those hours, couldn’t pinpoint the thing that had made his mood take a full one-eighty.</p>
<p>The tightness in his chest all too familiar: he’d had these nights before, and he knew that all he needed was to vent somehow, even if it was just through tears, and then go to sleep and he’d be fine again in the morning. Not happy, but not sad either.</p>
<p>He felt like the whole day he had been walking closer and closer to the edge of a cliff, blindfolded, getting closer and closer to falling, and at some point, he’d taken the final step and tumbled off whatever temporary happiness he’d conjured up for himself.</p>
<p>He’d come home to an empty apartment and knew that the normal Peter would have been relieved that he didn’t have to pretend for May. Instead of going for the leftovers that had been left out for him, he headed straight for his bed, grabbing his earphones from his bag before throwing it to the side.</p>
<p>The first thing he’d done was go to his ‘Happy’ playlist, well aware that he was falling and hoping that maybe he’d be able to catch himself. It didn’t work – he’d just zoned out, mindlessly tracing the ridges of the paint on the wall with his fingers. Soon after, he gave in and switched to his ‘Sad’ playlist, just wanting to cry so he could sleep and his day could finally be over.</p>
<p>But he couldn’t cry. Oh, there were a few tears, but nothing close to enough to get rid of that awful, full feeling in his chest, like his emotions had balled up so much that they were squashing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. How could he feel so full yet so empty?</p>
<p>When he checked his phone it said it was three am and he knew himself enough to not be surprised: time tended to slip by when he was having a bad day.</p>
<p>God, he just wanted to cry, wanted to sob until the pressure on his lungs was released and he could breathe again.</p>
<p>He distantly realised his music was still playing and turned it off, but the silence of the apartment was somehow worse than the false comfort the music provided, so he pressed play not long after.</p>
<p>He unlocked his phone, locked it. Unlocked it again.</p>
<p>Talking to someone might help but he knew he wasn’t okay enough to pretend to be normal, and that anyone he’d want to talk to would notice and then if he called knowing that they’d know something was wrong, then wasn’t he just begging for attention? And knowing that, how could he call anyone?</p>
<p>He sat up, the motion taking more energy than he’d like to admit, and stared at his phone, thumb hovering over his messages.</p>
<p>He locked his phone. Unlocked it.</p>
<p>It was four am.</p>
<p>May was at work, Ned and MJ would be asleep, and Tony – Tony was probably awake.</p>
<p>The thought clawed at him, relentless.</p>
<p>What if he’d been wrong though? He knew what he was like when he was like this, how empty he sounded when really, he was bursting, full of everything and nothing. What if Tony didn’t notice something was wrong? Peter didn’t think he’d be able to explain, wasn’t sure he knew how.</p>
<p>There was no proof that he was sad, no way for him to show Tony or himself that he wasn’t just making it up for attention.</p>
<p>Doubt slugged along his hands – what if he <em>was</em> just making it up?</p>
<p>Tony was probably awake.</p>
<p>He opened his messages, clicked on ‘Mr Stark-Man’ and hesitated, pausing as he tried to figure out what to say.</p>
<p>Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, he clicked the phone icon instead, barely breathing as it rang through his earphones and then tearing them out of his phone, because that wasn’t enough, wasn’t real enough.</p>
<p>It rang once, twice, echoing around the room, loud and real and Peter didn’t understand why he couldn’t just cry.</p>
<p>Tony picked up.</p>
<p>“Pete?” Tony didn’t sound worried. “You’re up early. Did you want to come around the Tower before school or something?”</p>
<p>It wasn’t <em>fair</em>.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth to speak and yawned but that was okay because he still hadn’t figured out what he was going to say.</p>
<p>“If you’re tired you should <em>sleep,</em> Peter.” Tony sounded exasperated now and Peter pressed himself further into his bed, hunching slightly as the guilt wormed its way into his chest and added to the weight on his lungs. “May would have my hide if she knew I was the reason you missed out on sleep again.”</p>
<p>“Sorry.” He got out, wincing at how strangled and raw it sounded and questioning if he’d said it that way on purpose, so Tony would notice.</p>
<p>There was a pause. “Pete? What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>And now he’d tricked Tony into being worried about him. God, he should have just kept listening to music until he fell asleep instead of involving someone else.</p>
<p>“I’m hungry.” He said, and he was, because he couldn’t eat when his emotions were taking up so much space.</p>
<p>There were voices on the other end of the phone and Peter couldn’t bring himself to listen when he knew they weren’t directed at him.</p>
<p>He focused again when Tony’s voice got louder. “I’m on my way. Do you think you could unlock your front door for me?”</p>
<p>Peter nodded and didn’t have enough energy to be embarrassed when he realised Tony couldn’t see him. “Okay.”</p>
<p>He got up then, knowing that if he didn’t he’d forget, or not do it in time, and then Tony would be mad and he wasn’t sure he could cope with Tony being mad. He didn’t think it took him long, but he didn’t think a minute passed between him sitting on the couch and Tony strolling through the door.</p>
<p>“Hey, Pete.” Peter blinked as Tony crouched down in front of him. “I brought food, breakfast and dinner types, just in case.”</p>
<p>“Hi.”</p>
<p>“I’m just going to grab some plates, okay?” He waited for Peter’s nod before going to the kitchen, moving easily to gather what he needed from the cupboards.</p>
<p>Peter tilted his head as Tony emptied the bags he’d brought with him onto various plates. “Tony?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” His tone was patient, as it always was with Peter these days, and it made his eyes water.</p>
<p>He breathed slowly, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. “It’s a bad day.”</p>
<p>Tony glanced at him, wearing a small smile that had nothing to do with happiness. “I know.”</p>
<p>And then, “Do you want to talk about it?”</p>
<p>Peter shook his head, because he didn’t, not really, and Tony nodded.</p>
<p>“Food it is then. Breakfast or dinner?”</p>
<p>“Waffles?”</p>
<p>Tony scoffed and handed him one of the plates. “Of course.”</p>
<p>Peter ate slowly and watched as Tony put on a film before sitting next to Peter and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.</p>
<p>He wasn’t okay yet, but Tony was with him and that was enough, for now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We love Sad!Peter, right?</p>
<p>Seriously though, please let me know if you liked this! I don't write this way often, if that makes sense, and when I do its almost always with irondad, so I'm legitimately curious about what people think.</p>
<p>Come chat to me on Tumblr <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/musicplotter">@musicplotter!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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